Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1887-04-01
THE OLD SETTLER.
HE ENLIGHTENs LITTLE PELEe.

fingered stitf-springed patent clothes.
pin, and cast a glance at the old cat that
lay snoozing in the splint-bottom rock
ing chair "Grandpop," said he, 'what
are the wild waves saying?"
The Old Settler looked up from the
pages of the local paper, in which he was
reading an account of a hog guessing
match that had come off over at the Cor.
nerS. He scowled over his spectacles at
Peleg, who fitted the clothespin carefully
on his nose and closed his mouth to see
how long he could hold his breath.
II hain't heerd no wild waves a yellin'
anything very loud lately, ez l knows
on, " said the Old Settler. (Which wild
waves is it th't-M'riarl Whack that
young'un on the back or he'll bust ey'rv
gizzard he's got!"
Peleg had hung on to his breath until
his eyes began to bulge out and his face
was as red as his grandfather's nose. He
succumbed to the inevitable before his
grandmother could give him the whack.
He opened his mouth and started his
lungs to working again, but left the
clothespln on his nose. His grandfather
glared at him for a moment, and then
said:
(Which wild waves is it th't yer speakin'
Off"
''Theb that Ups and roars arou'd Co
ney's 1lud," replied Peleg, his utterancc
stopped by the pressure of the clothespin
on his nose.
The Old Settler reached for his cane.
'Peleg" exclaimed his grandmother,
take that clothespin often your nose
Ye gimme cold in the head to hear We
What was ye meanin' ter say2"
Peleg removed the clothespin and re-
peated his remark. "Them that rips and
roars around Coney's Island; that's what
said. What are they saying, grand
pope"
"Coney's Island" exclaimed the Old
Settler. "W'at in Sam Hill do you know
bout Coney's Island, or bout any wild
waves ez mowt or ez mowtn't be rippin'
an roarin'2"
1.-The new school ma'am from town
boards to Bill Simmons's, replied Peleg,
"and t'other night she was telling US
about Conveys Island She's been there
lots, and she told us that she could set
on the bank down there and listen to
what the wild waves was saying all day
long. asked her what they was saving,
ana she SAID: OH much, little bow
She didn't say how much or what it was.
and l asked Bill Simmons if he knowed
and he said he did but wasn't giving it
away. Go ask yer grandpop, Bill said
IL he can't tell you, says Bill, the
worlds coming to an end That's how
come to ask you, grandpop. Can't you
tell met"
eyes, b'gosh, I KIM" exclaimed the
Old Settler, shaking his fist in the direc-
ton of the Simmons homestead. 81 kin
tell ye! Them wild waves is sayin', an
they're yoopin' it out SOS it kin be heerd
from Conveys Island to sundown th't the
bes' thing you kin do is to keep shet o.
that Bill Simmons, or THAI shingle out
thar in the yard that'll make the proper
est kind OF paddle, an if that paddle is
made an used you'll hef to stan up fer
moren week wen We eat yer slap Jacks
an 'lasses! That's wat them wild waves
Is sayln', Peleg, an it's yer poor OF gram
pop th't's tellin' We so, b'gosht 'lmighty.
an we won't listenw
Peleg sat down by the side of the
splint-bottom rocking chair. Tie said
nothing, Lut thought to himself as he
toyed with the clothespin, that if the
wild waves had said all that to the
schoolma'm, she must have been more
than pleased at their remarks about the
paddle and the slap jacks. The Old Set
tier picked up his paper again. Peleg's
grandmother took her knitting and went
off to the ''settin room, and his grand
father, after finishing the account of the
hog guessing-which stated that Pete
Hellriggle had won the hog-and remark
ing that If Pete didn't trade the hog off
for bar'l O. cider the winnin O. it'd be
lucky thing fer his family, ez they'd
ben browsln' on sassyfrax all winter, he
turned to Peleg and said:
Eyes, my son, that's wat them wild
waves is Sayin, an ez yer gran'mammy
hain't in hearin' to git worried at our
talkln', I'll tell We wat some wild waves
done to me wunst Them waves didn't
say nothin', but they jist got up an done.
This happened wen were a boy, consid'
able many year ago. 'Twere on the
ninth day of April, 1929, in the arter-
noon. were jist comm seven year old.
Their had ben big rain fer two or three
days, an | know'd th't Sloplick Creek
must be jist right fer sucker fishin', an so
sneaked my pap's chestnut pole an
hosshair line Outen the barn an cut cross
lots fer the big bend o. the creek, witch
were jist over raise O. ground from our
cabin in the clearin', maybe four or five
rod away, but out o. sight, cause 'twere
in the gulley, twenty-five foot lower'n
the clearin'. AM speakin' O. sucker fish
in, sonny, yell see, fore l git through
with this leetle anecdote, th't tn was
suckers in the creeks in them days. Tn
haint none in 'em now, but thur many
O. one outen the creeks, an big un's,
too. Wall, wen l come in sight O. whar
Of Sloplick orter been jist more thin bill
ing, OWN to the hard rains, | almos'
tumbled back in faintin fit TIL
want no Sloplick thar The bed o. the
creek were dryer'n salt herrin' Ez fur ez
l could see down the creek, a picked
chicken couldn't ben no barer thin
them rocks on the bottom was. The
creek had fall O. more'n twenty foot to
the miled, an even in low water went
down by thar, on its way to the river
three miled below, like peeled hemlock
log down roll way, an thar she were,
arter all them rains, dry an empty from
bank to bank. Peleg were skeert, and
tuck to tremblin' wuss thin hungry
dog at daylight on a frosty morn
in thort the world were comm
to an end right thar an then. Poorly
soon l got stiddy enough to look up the
creek, an then were skeert wuss'n ever,
fer bout quarter of miled away. in